


Five Times Dean Knew He was Totally In Love With Chloe

by sarcastic_fina



Series: Five Times (Chloe/Dean) [2]
Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-09
Updated: 2008-10-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: Much as he wants to deny it, even Dean has to face facts, and there were five times he just couldn't pretend he wasn't totally in love with Chloe Sullivan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind this story was originally written in **2008** and my writing style and ability has changed and grown. I'm moving this story here as I'm going to be deleting my LJ soon.

**1.**   


"What the hell am I doing?" he asked himself the hundredth time that day. He'd only been a few hours (five and a half) away, so it wasn't _that_ unusual that he drove out to see her. He'd called her earlier after he and Sammy finished up a hunt, just to see what she was doing. Nothing special, she was a friend, so it wasn't _so_ surprising that he was calling her really.

Achoo! _"Hello?"_

_"Uh, hi?" he replied, frowning._

Cough-Achoo! _"Dean?" she said, her voice groggy._

_"Yeah," he said, brow lifting. "You feelin' okay?"_

_"N-No!" she exclaimed, breaking out into a coughing fit. "I'm sick! Like can't get out of bed, wash my hair, or change my clothes sick."_

_"Sounds... stinky."_

_"Well I'm too stuffed up to notice, thanks."_

_He rolled his eyes. "So what are you doin' about it? Sammy gets sick and suddenly he wants special teas and vitamins... It's all real girly."_

_She clucked her tongue. "I called Clark to get me some soup and orange juice..."_

_"And?"_

_"And that was yesterday, he still hasn't shown up," she sighed. "And I've called Lois and I asked her to bring me some halls and that sweet tea I like that makes my breathing easier..."_

_He lifted a brow. "And?"_

_"And that was_ two _days ago. She's on a big story."_

_He could practically see her pouting._

_"Where are you?" she wondered._

_"Too far to bring you any of that." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Sam who was currently snoring away, face on an open book. "How long you been sick?"_

_"Four days," she said, sighing._

_His face scrunched up. "And you haven't gotten outta bed all this time?"_

_She scoffed. "Of course I have. Not since yesterday though when the nausea finally passed."_

_"Fantastic," he muttered, shaking his head._

_She groaned. "I'm hungry and I feel like crap and I really, really just want this all to be over."_

_He half-smiled. "'Fraid with all I know, there's no quick cure to the common cold, sweetheart."_

_She exhaled heavily. "Fine. I'm going to try and sleep this away. Call me if you do find that cure, ‘kay?"_

_He chuckled. "You got it."_

They hung up and in an entirely too sappy move on his part, he climbed into his Impala and started driving. He stopped first in a little town he liked best for its pie and then continued on toward Smallville, stopping in Metropolis at a 24 hour convenience store to grab her halls and orange juice. Standing there under the florescent light, he stared at the rack of halls in every color and flavor, his brows furrowed. How the hell was he supposed to know which one to buy? He glanced over at the counter, where the clerk seemed to be staring at him funny. Since it was just after midnight, he was probably worried he might just rob the place. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed one of each Halls available, a two liter of orange juice, a can of VapoRub that he spotted walking past (he _totally_ wasn't hoping she would ask him to help her rub it on...), and a box of Lemon tea that said something about soothing relief. Arms full, he dumped it all on the counter and pulled out his credit card. _Jeremiah Lorenz_ would be covering Chloe's health today.

After grabbing up the bags, he made his way back to his car and started the drive over to Smallville. And now, five and a half hours later, he cut the engine as he sat outside the Talon. Locking his baby up, he climbed out, goods in hand. He sighed, shaking his head at himself before he walked forward. The door was locked but Chloe had shown him where the spare key was hidden awhile back, more because she didn't want him fiddling with the locks. Locking it back up behind him, he made his way upstairs and used the key on his chain to get her apartment door open. His brow wrinkled momentarily. How weird was it that he had the key to a chick's place? All right, so she wasn't just any chick, but still...

Shaking it off, he went inside, closing the door with a kick of his foot. He made his way to the kitchen, pulled out a teapot and started it up, dropping a lemon tea bag in her favorite red mug. He waited for the high pitched whistle before he poured the steaming water in and stirred it, adding two tea spoons of sugar. He heard her door open and then her shuffled footsteps before he looked over to find her standing there, head tipped, a bat hanging from one of her hands. Her hair was messed up, flattened on one side, she was wearing the weirdest fuzzy slippers he'd ever seen, and she was swamped in a giant housecoat. Her nose was red, her face a little pale, and when she spoke her voice was a little croaky. Was it weird that he thought she looked adorable?

She halted in her steps and frowned. "Ever heard of knock-" She cut herself off abruptly, eyes widening, and then dropped the bat, taking the tea from his outreached hand.

He pointed a thumb at the jug of orange juice and the myriad of Halls he'd picked up, with the jar of VapoRub sitting in the mess on top of the counter.

She sighed, grinning up at him. "You came all this way for _this_?"

He snorted. "No way." He reached behind his back and grabbed the brown box. "I came all this way to make sure you tried the best pie in all of America. Screw chicken soup, this'll make you feel so good, you won't even remember you're sick," he boasted, handing her a fork before he straddled the chair next to her and dropped the pie in front of them.

After a long sip of her tea, she picked up her fork and cut a chunk out of the pie, lifting it to her mouth and letting it sit on her tongue a moment, enjoying all the flavors. Her eyes fluttered. " _That_ is good." Her brow rose. "Really, _really_ good."

He smirked. "Told ya."

She licked her lips and plunged her fork back in. "So I tell you I'm sick and I want chicken soup and orange juice and you drive..." She glanced at the clock. "For almost six _hours_ to bring me pie, your favorite food, and everything I listed, in spades, plus some handy VapoRub?" She stared at him, lips quirked. "Why, Dean Winchester, I think you're getting soft."

He scoffed. "You must be feverish," he mocked, shaking his head. "Sammy was sleepin', you were alone, I had some time on my hands..." He shrugged. "And hell, you may never have tasted this pie if it wasn't for me, so you should-"

She leaned across and pressed a kiss to his cheek that abruptly stopped his excuses.

Sitting back, she grinned, lifting her tea in both hands and nodding. "Thank you. You were here for me when everybody else was too busy."

He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair and deciding the best choice of action was to just fill his mouth with pie. "'s good," he mumbled through a mouthful, turning his eyes elsewhere.

With an amused grin, she enjoyed her tea.

Dean wished he could kick himself. What the hell was wrong with him, huh? _Six hours_ for a girl. Sure, she was beautiful and smart and she had a look in her eyes that told him she would give him the kind of ride that would make sure he never wanted to get out of bed again. But she was _Chloe_ , his friend, and she was off limits as of day one. So this was just some weird crush thing; that was all. Hell, she was attractive, she understood their lifestyle, that was like... What would Sammy call it? Transference or something smart like that. The point was that he was blowing this out of proportion. So he got up out of bed after a nine day hunt with very little sleep, drove six hours out of town with pie and tea for her... That wasn't so crazy, right? Ah, who was he kidding? He was so freakin' in love with her it was just plain _wrong_.

Shaking his head, he took another big bite of pie. He'd get over it. He had to... Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much as he wants to deny it, even Dean has to face facts, and there were five times he just couldn't pretend he wasn't totally in love with Chloe Sullivan.

**2.**

"Okay, so wait, the doctor said _what_ again?" Dean's brow furrowed, mouth pinched as he stared down at his coffee. Needed more sugar.

Sam sighed. "You know, if you hadn't been staring at the _calendar_ on his wall, you might've actually _heard_ what we were talking about."

"Sammy, dude, you _should_ have been staring at the calendar. Miss October..." He whistled. "Blonde, curvy...Man, what I would _give_..."

"Yeah..." Sam rolled his eyes. "Doesn't sound at _all_ like anybody we might know."

Dean spooned a few piles of sugar into his coffee and then cocked a brow. "Huh?"

"Chloe, Dean." He shook his head.

"Yeah? What about her? She call?" He dug his cell phone out of his coat pocket. "She usually leaves me a message." He grinned. "Last night, it was like two in the morning, she asked to talk to you but you were sleeping, she didn't believe me so I had the phone up to your face while you were snoring-" He laughed. "So anyway--"

Sam glowered. "You had her listen to me snore?"

"What?" He shrugged. "She missed your bitch face. Figure she'd feel less Winchester-sick if she was could hear what I was hearing... A buzzsaw sleeping five feet away."

He scoffed. "Unbelievable."

"I know." He grinned. "So anyway..."

"You boys need anything else?" a waitress interrupted, bending low enough that her cleavage nearly spilled right out. He nearly laughed as Sam tried to avert his gaze, doing his best not to stare. Shaking his head, he punched in his call history. "We're good, thanks," he said before looking up at Sam. "She did call."

"That wasn't what I was talking about," he sighed.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm gonna call her back." Standing up, he moved to walk outside, bumping into a tall blonde on the way. He stared at her a second, recognition registering almost immediately in his head. She was a statuesque blonde with stunning green eyes and naturally wavy blonde hair; the kind of woman Sam would say Dean would happily trail after with his tongue out. Instead, he apologized for not watching where he was going and continued outside. He felt her eyes on his back and lifted the phone to his ear, waiting for Chloe to pick up.

 _"Sullivan here, what can I do for you?_ " her voice came through.

His lips curled. "Loaded question, Blondie," he replied.

She snorted. _"Dean. Always nice to hear from you. I'll assume your brother's awake and hope you don't subject me to his snoring again."_

"Hey, I just wanted you to stop whining about missing us." He grinned, relaxing against the wall behind him. "What're you up to?"

" _Currently I'm surrounded by paperwork of all types... I have a very long day of reading ahead of me._ " She paused. " _How far away are you?_ "

"Too far for you to even _think_ about getting me to sit around and read boring crap all day."

She chuckled. " _I wasn't going to ask that. I've been hearing a few things about a ‘_ job' _just outside of Metropolis... Although if you feel the urge to help me with paperwork, feel encouraged to drop in for that too_."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, my weekend's not that boring, sweetheart."

" _You say that now but you just wait until you're sitting around, listening to Sam snore, and you know I'm just over here, all on my own, reading riveting papers on... the medical history of meteor rock itch..._ "

His brow furrowed. "That like jock itch?"

She laughed. " _No. Definitely not_."

He shrugged. "Well, unless this itch has supernatural powers, I'm pretty much useless."

" _Useless? Hardly_." She scoffed. " _And I'd list the way you happen to be very handy, but I can already see the sick jokes filling your head._ "

"Hey, you're the one who said I was _handy_..."

She snorted. " _You're unbelievable sometimes, you know that?_ "

"Unbelievably handy?"

" _I'm hanging up now_ ," she said, chuckling.

"All right, all right." He grinned. "Call me later when you're done with the paperwork, gimme the details on that job."

" _Sure. Say hi to Sam for me._ "

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere..."

" _Like you even let him out of your sight_."

He looked up, spotting his brother through the window, fully able to keep an eye on him the whole time. "You know me too well."

" _You're predictable_."

"Am not."

" _Are too_."

"Whatever. I'm hangin' up."

She laughed. " _Bye Dean_."

"Bye."

He hung up, sticking his phone in his pocket and then returned to the restaurant, unable to stop himself from grinning. As he was on his way to the table, a hand wrapped around his wrist. He turned back, brow furrowed, to the same blonde he nearly plowed over smiling up at him. She held a torn piece of napkin up. "I think you dropped this," she said suggestively.

Glancing down, he shook his head. "Nah, not mine." His upstairs brain applauded him, but his downstairs brain was screaming, " _What the hell are you_ doing _, man?_ "

He walked away, taking his seat across from Sam once more. After taking a sip of his coffee, his face scrunching up at the cool taste, he flagged the waitress walking past and asked her for a refill.

Taking a drink of his now hot coffee, he looked up at his stunned brother.

" _What_... was that?" Sam asked, leaning forward on his forearms.

Dean's brow wrinkled. "What was what?"

"Okay, _first_ you ignore the massive amounts of fake cleavage being stuffed in your face..." He discreetly pointed at the stacked brunette across the restaurant. "And _then_ you completely ignore the blonde you nearly trampled on your way out. To top it all off, you _again_ ignore the blonde who was obviously offering you her number." He shook his head. "Who _are_ you?"

He shrugged. "Shut up. I was busy."

"Seriously, I'm starting to worry about you..."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So I didn't sleep with the first two chicks to throw themselves at me, so what? Maybe I have standards."

Sam stared at him in disbelief.

He snorted. "Yeah, thanks."

"Well... You've kind of proven over the years that you'll sleep with pretty much anyone..."

"Have not."

Sam didn't look convinced.

"Whatever. So, I talked to Chloe and she got whiff of this job..."

His forehead wrinkled. "We're already _on_ a job..."

"Yeah," He nodded, "But this one's bigger..."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "And where is it?"

"Yunno, nearby..."

"Nearby as in?" He shook his head questioningly.

Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Three days drive from here," he replied, frowning.

"Three _days_? Dean! That's like..." He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's near Metropolis, isn't it?"

Dean scoffed. "No. Not really..."

Sam glared. "We're not quitting this job just so you can go see Chloe!"

"What? Dude, I never said that." He frowned. "Besides, Chloe's busy and we wouldn't even really have _time_ to go and see her... Unless we left today and finished the other job _early_ and..."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You're obsessed, you know that?"

He glowered. "Am not."

"You're turning down women, you're checking your phone as much as a girl, you're grinning _all_ the time and-"

"Okay, okay, shut up. So maybe... maybe I just like having a normal civilian friend, all right?" He shifted around in his chair.

"Civilian? Normal? Uh, hate to break it to you, Dean, but Chloe barely registers as _either_ of those."

Dean glared before standing up. "Thank you Dr. Phil. Can we go solve this case and head out to the next one, please?" He tossed a few dollars down on the table and then walked out, not even acknowledging the beautiful blonde that watched him pass. He wasn't stupid; he knew something was different. And he also knew just who that blonde was sitting at the table, making sex-eyes at him. It was like a Trickster had kicked him in the ass and was out to make him jump through hoops. Sitting inside that diner was Miss October, the same he'd been staring at on the calendar. A supermodel; a friggin _supermodel!_ And in person she was just as beautiful, but he felt _nothing_. Sure, something downstairs _stirred_ , but more than that, he just wanted to get this hunt over and get to the next one, so he'd be closer to Chloe. And maybe then, he could deal with all this. He'd see her and things would calm down and _finally_ these feelings of love or like or whatever would be gone...

Sam walked out, grinning knowingly and Dean glared. It better go away. He couldn't stand his brother's smug look anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much as he wants to deny it, even Dean has to face facts, and there were five times he just couldn't pretend he wasn't totally in love with Chloe Sullivan.

**3.**   


They'd gotten through security and were now approaching the gate; he could feel Sam giving him his patented concerned look. "Dude, will you stop?"

Sam smiled slightly. "Sorry... I just... Are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

"It'll take too long to drive, right? So this is... logical..." He swallowed tightly. "I'll be fine."

"Dean... The last time you were on a place it was crashing..." Sam stared at him. "And I'm not going to be on there with you."

"What? You think I need to hold your hand for this? It's just a stupid plane, Sammy. I've faced worst." He shrugged his bag a little higher. "Look, she said she needed me there tomorrow... So I'll be there. And you'll drive up in the next few days, right?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "So not only are you taking a plane for her but you're trusting your baby with me?" He lifted a brow.

"It's just a few hours, right?" He blew out a long breath. "Nothing to worry about... Heh..." He tried to grin but couldn't. "I'll just get on, strap myself in and... take nap." He nodded. "Get one of those _perky_ flight attendants to wake me up when it's over."

"Yeah or turbulence will."

"You are enjoying this _way too much_ ," Dean told him through grit teeth.

Sam grinned. "Sorry... It's just so rare that you're actually scared-"

"I'm not _scared_!" he exclaimed, glaring at the people that were looking. "I just don't like flying."

"Yeah," he nodded, brows lifted, "because you're _scared_ to."

"Whatever." He shook his head, looking back at the gate where tickets were being taken. "This is important, right?"

"Yeah."

"She needs me there."

"Yup."

"Said I'd go, so I can't just back out now..."

"No."

"Even if she'd probably forgive me if I showed up late, couldn't fly..."

Sam's brow furrowed. "We already bought the ticket."

He snorted. "Not like it was really our money... And... She'd understand."

"Of course she would" he agreed. "But imagine how excited she'd be that you made it there _the day of_."

Dean frowned. "Well, yeah, but..."

"Think of her smile and the hug she'd give you and-"

"Okay shut up," he interrupted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll have to remind her to call my _sister_ Sammy since you miss her so much."

He smiled. "This mean you're getting on the plane?"

"Huh?" He looked over. "Uh yeah... yeah..."

"The luncheon is tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"Yeah... You can _get_ to New York, right? You're not gonna get lost?" He smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Dean, I think I can manage. I've been to Columbia University before."

"Good, good..." He shifted back and forth. "'Cause y'know, if you're not sure, uh, I could drive us there-"

"And what? Miss Chloe being given an award she's worked her life for? Are you kidding?"

He sighed. "I know... Damn it." He licked his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets and mumbling under his breath. "All right, okay... I'm going." He stomped toward the gate, glaring at Sam over his shoulder.

"Have fun!" Sam called out, chuckling.

Dean fingered him, handing his ticket over to the attendant before he made his way onto the plane, his stomach twisting and churning. He immediately found his seat, sat down and pulled on his seat belt. Grabbing his walkman out, he plugged in Metallica and closed his eyes, gripping the armrests tightly. For the next four hours, he didn't do anything else. He shook his head at the flight attendant when she asked anything, he ignored the need to use the bathroom, he never took off his seatbelt and he listened to Metallica over and over again. And finally, when the plane landed, he ran off as quickly as he possibly could. He was tired, he felt sick, and he vowed never to take a plane again.

As he walked through the airport searching for a familiar face, he finally saw a large chunk of cardboard with the writing, " _James Hetfield_ " being waved around. He laughed, spotted the blonde holding it up and shook his head. Damn, she knew him too well. Spotting him, she dropped the sign and ran over, grinning widely before she threw her arms around him.

"No chick-fli-" He was cut off by the tight reign she had around his neck. "Cho-ki-ng."

"Oh, sorry!" she said, loosening her grip. "You _came_!" She stared up at him with big green eyes.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, you said it was important..."

She hugged him again and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling more grounded than he had in the last four and a half hours. "I wasn't sure... I know how much you hate flying and... Well, Sam said not to get my hopes up."

"Yeah?" His brows rose. "Well I came."

She stepped back and looked up at him. "So the luncheon isn't for hours and you must be beat. I'm renting a Hotel room so we can head over there. I didn't bother getting you a room because I'm so buzzed I won't sleep at all." She shrugged. "So you can take the bed and I'll just... pace or something." She laughed, taking his head and directing him toward the door.

"Uh, before we go..."

She looked back at him.

He looked around. "I think I need to throw up."

Her expression widened. "You _really_ hate flying, huh?"

He nodded quickly, motioning with his hand to get her to show him where the bathrooms were.

"Uh, I think they're right over..." She pointed and he started running, leaving his bag with her.

Leaning over a porcelain toilet, emptying the contents of yesterday's dinner, Dean decided the worst part was probably that he'd do it all over again. The bone-gripping fear he felt on the plane, the queasy stomach for five hours that led into vomiting and dry-heaving... All because she looked so happy to see him, so proud that he'd fought off a fear of flying for her... God, he was such a friggin' sap.

"Dean?" he heard her concerned voice outside the door.

He closed his eyes and groaned. Nobody warned him love involved all this crap!

"Yeah," he called back. "I'm okay."

"All right... I'm just going to go get something to soothe your stomach, okay?"

He nodded. "'Kay."

There was a long pause and then. "Dean?"

He sat up, moving to lean against the stall wall, his head falling back. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

His brow furrowed.

"I just..." She sighed. "I'm really happy you get to share this with me."

His mouth quirked. "Me too."

"Okay, well, I'll be back in a few minutes."

He nodded despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

Okay, so all this love crap was totally _not fun_ , but... it had its moments.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much as he wants to deny it, even Dean has to face facts, and there were five times he just couldn't pretend he wasn't totally in love with Chloe Sullivan.

**4.**   


It'd been a week and a half since he talked to Lois and got the go-ahead and now... _now_ was the pinnacle of that conversation.

It _physically_ hurt to take the keys from the grinning salesman in front of him. Instead of climbing back into his prized baby, he left his Impala in the rusted rearview mirror of the sturdy but far-less-eye catching car he'd just picked up. The seat was uncomfortable; it didn't mold to him like his Impala. The drab brown upholstery wasn't like his girl's leather. But he grit his teeth and continued driving with one more stop before he left back to the motel room that Chloe was currently residing in. He convinced Sam to leave them alone for just an hour or two. Get some grub or read some obits, hell look for porn on the laptop somewhere, he didn't care. And as he parked the ridiculously small-feeling car in front of the jeweler's, there was mixed satisfaction when he went inside, put down a wad of cash and pointed out what he'd found three days prior. Taking the black velvet box from the grinning man behind the counter, he nodded, pocketed it, and made his way back to the eye sore he just bought.

He didn't know whether to kick himself or pat himself on the back. When he pulled into the Motel parking lot, he sighed (with resignation or relief, he wasn't quite sure). All he knew was that in an hour, when his brother got back, Sam was going to laugh until his sides hurt and then he was going to freak out. So he got out, didn't bother locking the door and walked to the Motel room. When he stepped inside, she was lying on her stomach, dressed in one of his old shirts, long enough to reach her mid-thighs. Sprawled along the bed, her legs up, ankles crossed, face pillowed on one hand, she read a book - probably one of those romance novels she liked so much. He snorted, shaking his head, and suddenly felt so much more at ease.

Closing the door behind him, he kicked his boots off and shrugged off his coat.

"Hey," she said, grinning up at him.

He nodded, crossing the room and laying down next to her.

She leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder. "Listen to this..." She cleared her throat.

" _Rosetta was no poor soul, despite how the others looked at her. ‘Poor, little Rosie,' they all thought. Because why? Her husband, of course. They looked at him and saw him unfit for her; too rough, too dark, not sensitive enough to her needs, could never understand ‘little Rosie.' But what they didn't know, what they'd never know, was that within the confines of their room, in moments spared where people couldn't watch or listen or hinder, her husband was the kindest of all men. He had a heart spun of gold, whether he knew it or not._

_"Yes, he was gruff and he could be callous when pushed, but in the end, he was nothing but a good man born of bad luck. He would lay down his life in favor of hers or anybody else's. He would offer himself up to death on a silver platter. ‘Take me,' he'd cry, ‘and leave the innocent be.' And that is how Rosetta knew, that is how she held her shoulders high and comforted herself on days where they stared and whispered and shook their heads, tisking over the match. They - they knew nothing. She - she knew it all. She was not the poor soul, no. She was the lucky one._ "

Turning her head, she looked up at him, lips curled.

"Where's the hot, steamy sex?" he teased.

She laughed. "Innocent me reading such naughty literature?" She rolled her eyes. "Why I wouldn't dare..." She rolled onto her back. "Of course, I wouldn't be against _showing_ you how they did it."

He reached for her, arm wrapping around her waist and dragged her across the bed until her back was pressed against his front.

She turned her head. "This usually involves less clothing and not that I'm against the positioning but we could definitely readjust a little here," she murmured.

He chuckled before ducking his head and kissing the corner of her eye which fluttered at the touch of his lips. He kissed lower, along her cheek and down her jaw. Drawing her hair out of the way, he pressed his lips to her neck, suckling her skin and grazing his teeth against her.

She licked her lips, rocking her hips back against him. "Sam could come back, we-"

"He's busy for the night," he said, fingers nimbly dragging the shirt she wore up her body. She hissed at the cool touch of his hand spreading along her bare skin. He kissed her shoulder, tugging her shirt away to reveal her back.

Gathering her hair up into his hand, he held it as he kissed down the base of her neck and along her spine. She rolled over slightly, half on her stomach. He braced a knee between her thighs and drew her shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties. His hands found her hips and kneaded up her sides before cupping her lace-sheathed breasts, flicking his thumbs over her tight nipples. Whimpering, she arched into him. He teased her awhile, drawing circles with his forefingers and massaging her skin before drawing one hand away only long enough to undo the clasp of her bra at her back.

Sliding his knee up further between the juncture of her thighs, he held her tight against his leg and rocked it against her. Her breath hitched with each rub of his jean-clad thigh against her heat, barely shielded through her thin cotton panties. His arm snaked around her, his hand sliding down her abdomen slowly before wandering beneath her underwear, cold fingers sliding against her warm slit.

"Dean," she gasped and he felt his chest clench. She was going to be saying that name, just like that, for the rest of her life, he decided.

He massaged her folds with his fingers, feeling her heat coat his digits. She jerked against him, turned her head and pressed her cheek against his as his front pressed against her back. Wrapping another arm around her, he switched positions radically, drawing her into his lap as he sat back on his haunches. Her head fell back to his shoulder while she straddled his thigh, rubbing herself down against him while simultaneously rocking herself against his wandering fingers. Sliding his hand up her stomach, he cupped her breast, kneading the soft, firm flesh. Turning her head, she attached her mouth to his neck, nuzzling his ear as she suckled and lightly bit his skin.

Her hand fell to his lap, rubbing back and forth along the hard bulge already formed. "Hm-mm," he disagreed, grabbing her hand and drawing it up to hold her other breast. "This is about you," he said in her ear. She looked up at him, eyes dark and he knew she was about to ask why, so he flicked her clit with his forefinger and distracted her entirely. She moaned, jerking her lower half against him. Her eyes fluttered closed and her teeth bit into her lip. He watched her cheeks flush and her body writhe as she melted into his grasp, rocking her hips to meet each stroke of his fingers.

He ducked his head to kiss her shoulder and up her neck, suckling her pulse point, feeling the vibrations of her moaning. He could feel her heat dampening his jeans. She reached an arm behind her, her nails biting into his neck, dragging down. He drew circles with his fingers, massaging where he knew it'd make her whimper. He ran his middle finger down in a straight line, dipping it inside of her, massaging her inner walls, twirling his finger around and around. Her cheek rubbed against his as she lifted herself up and brought herself down on his digit, wanting him deeper.

"More," she breathed, opening her eyes to look up at him.

He stared back, at those green eyes that had him grinning from the very first moment he met her. So full of passion and strength and wild energy that she didn't want to reign in. He kissed her, inserting two fingers deep inside her and pumping them in and out quickly. His tongue stroked hers and along the roof of her mouth, making her whimper as she rocked her hips and tried to focus on kissing him back. He thumbed her clit, his two end fingers curling and unfurling against her folds. She gasped, her mouth falling open and he nibbled her lower lip before kissing down her chin and along the column of her neck, suckling the crook where her shoulder started.

His finger circled her nipple, using his short nails to send shivers through her as they lightly scratched her skin and ran across her nipple at random. He inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of her heat mixed with the faint smell of her bodywash still on her skin. His nose brushed her neck as he kissed up to her ear. "Say yes," he told her.

"Yes," she replied simply.

He grinned. "Not yet."

She laughed breathily. "Hey," she rasped, "I'm liable to say yes to anything right now... What'd you expect?"

He lifted a brow. "How liable?" He twisted his fingers inside of her, rubbing her clit a little faster.

"Very, _very_ ," she panted, _"_ liable."

He nodded. "Good."

"Why?" she wondered, looking up at him with lust darkened eyes.

"Nothing," He licked his lips. "Just remember to say yes."

Her lips curled. "Duly noted."

Leaning forward, he kissed her once more, more tender now, lingering across her lips, a drastic difference as his fingers thrust deeply inside of her, a third added to the mix. She rocked quicker, unable to keep up, simply taking the hard penetration and stretching her back as she reached closer and closer to her orgasm. He drew his initials with his thumb across her clit, over and over again as he fingered her until finally she inhaled sharply, arched her back, and let out a high cry of ecstasy. She jerked against his hand, her body thrumming and quaking, until she slowly relaxed, falling back against him, boneless. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her lips turned up in a satisfied grin.

He kissed her flushed cheek, watched her eyes lay closed, moving back and forth beneath her lids. "Marry me," he said.

Her eyes opened quickly then, her vivid green gaze meeting his. She stared at him searchingly, as if she thought she'd imagined the words.

He half-smirked, more to reassure himself than anything. "Marry me, Blondie," he repeated, sounding more certain than he felt.

Lifting a hand, she cupped his cheek and drew him down into a kiss, her mouth slanting across his slow and deep, no tongue or teeth, just lips and breath mingling. Her arm wrapped around his neck, her body turning, legs wrapping around his waist. She used it to her advantage, pushing down on the mattress and drawing him up until she fell onto her back on the mattress with him covering her. The feeling rushed back into his legs suddenly but he ignored the pins and needles, too absorbed in her mouth. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her hands spread out along his back, running down to the end of his shirt and drawing it up until it was stuck at his armpits.

As they broke apart, he stared at her, licking his lips. "Just so are lines aren't crossed here...?"

She laughed. "Yes." She nodded, leaning forward to peck his lips once more. "I mean, I have to talk to Lois and... and Clark and my dad, probably, but... I think, yes..." Her brow furrowed.

"I got Lois covered. She told you to call with details."

Her eyes widened. "You... You asked Lois if you could..." She swallowed tightly, her eyes suddenly damp.

He winced. "You're not gonna cry, are you?"

She chuckled, sniffling, before she nodded. "No," she said, contrasting her movement.

He lifted up off her and sat back, digging in his pocket for the ring and pulled it out. "Figure I should do this right..." He held the small diamond band out on his forefinger.

Sitting up, she stared on with wide-eyes. "But... Dean, you live on credit card fraud and poker winnings... There's no way you could've possibly..."

He cleared his throat, shrugging. "I sold off some stuff... Don't worry about it..."

Her brow furrowed. "What'd you sell?" she asked uncertainly.

Taking her hand, he slid the ring on her finger. "What does it matter?"

"It matters," she said, shaking her head before she moved to slide out from beneath him.

He grabbed her hip. "Where are you going?"

"To look in the parking lot," she said pointedly.

He looked away.

"You sold her, didn't you?" she said quietly.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Dean?"

"Guy gave me a good deal... We've got another car... It's not bad, not as comfortable, but..." He shrugged. "Saw the ring and I... I knew it was it."

She reached up, cupping his face. "Dean, the Impala was your baby, she's-"

"Not as important as you," he cut her off. "I can get another car..." He frowned. "I'll play more poker, scam more pool, whatever..."

"But it was your-"

"Chlo," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want this to be a big deal. I sold my car, I bought you a ring, we're getting married. That's that."

She was quiet for a moment before finally nodding. "All right."

He grinned, nodding.

With a smirk, she reached forward and grabbed the end of his shirt, tugging it up and off of him. "Now let me say yes properly," she said, brow lifted.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her up against his chest. "I'm not stopping you."

She laughed lightly before pressing her lips to his.

Tomorrow, when he had to climb in the car that wasn't his Impala, he knew he'd be filled with loss. It wouldn't feel right and he'd hate it simply because it wasn't his girl, but as the cool touch of her ring ran across his shoulder, he couldn't muster up any regret just yet. Before Chloe, he couldn't imagine giving up his car for anybody or anything, except maybe Sammy. But this wasn't life threatening and he'd willingly handed over the keys. All because he saw the right ring and he knew it was now or never. So maybe he was just trading in one faithful, all consuming girl for another. Except this one could love him back and would, for a lifetime.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much as he wants to deny it, even Dean has to face facts, and there were five times he just couldn't pretend he wasn't totally in love with Chloe Sullivan.

**5.**   


He woke abruptly to hushed shouting and violent shaking. "Get up! Dean Winchester, if you _ever_ plan to get married or have sex again, you'll wake the hell up _right now_!"

"I'm up, I'm up! What the _hell_?" he asked, sitting up with bleary eyes and a furrowed brow.

Sam was tiredly trying to wrangle his jeans on, his hair all over the place and his eyes still closed. "Dunno..." he mumbled. "She woke me up, said we had to go..."

"Seriously? Dress faster, Sam!"

He sighed. "But I've got really long legs..." he whined, falling back to the bed with a sleepy pout.

"If you don't get those jeans on, you're going to be driving two states pantless!" she told him, turning back to the bags as she stuffed all their clothes in them without checking what belonged to who or whether it should go in the laundry duffle. Running back toward the bathroom, already fully dressed, in suspiciously all black clothing, she came out with an armful of her girly stuff; shampoo, shaving cream, tampons, the whole shebang and then rammed it into another bag.

"What's the hurry? I thought we were heading out tomorrow afternoon, after lunch," Dean said, staring at her.

"Change of plans, we have to go now. Immediately." She turned suddenly. "Sam!?! Pants! Now!"

Sam scoffed. "I'm getting them on. I just... need a minute to wake up."

"No minutes to waste." She turned back around. "Dean... Are you wearing _anything_?'

Dean looked down, brows lifting. "Heh. Nope."

She rolled her eyes before grabbing a bag and searching through it. "Here. Wear this."

He frowned at the clothes but took them anyway. "You know, I know I proposed, but I didn't think naggy-wife would come out for awhile."

She didn't even bother to glare at him. "Mouth closed. Clothes on. And get moving," she ordered before turning around to search the room. She checked under the beds, in the end table drawers, and across all surfaces for everything, and then she did a thorough wipe-down of it all.

"You know, I just realized I'm not sure all of our stuff is going to fit into Dean's new beater," Sam said with an amused smile.

"Shut up... It's practically a classic..." He felt _dirty_ just saying it.

Sam snorted. "Yeah... Right."

"Hey, the trunk is big enough for me to stick your giant ass in..." He pointed at him, brows raised for emphasis.

"Yeah, but where would you fit my legs?"

Chloe sighed loudly. "Guys? I wasn't kidding. Sam? Pants?"

"What? They're on..." He stood up to show her.

"Shoes? Socks?"

He frowned, shoulders slumping before he moved to find the rest of his things.

"Dean?"

"Can't I have a shower first? I feel all sweaty and... covered in sex."

"Real nice," Sam muttered.

"Too late. We gotta go," Chloe said, opening the door and motioning for them to get out.

"What? But I haven't..." Sam held up a boot, his eyes wide.

"Move it, you can put it on in the car," Chloe said, throwing the bags at them to catch and carry.

"You're marrying a slave driver," he said, looking back at Dean.

He shrugged. "You heard her, Sammy."

They left the room with Chloe doing one last sweep before carrying her laptop bag over her shoulder and locking everything up behind her. As they climbed downstairs, Sam paused momentarily before looking back. "Is that..."

"Go, go, go," Chloe said, shooing them forward.

As they stopped in the parking lot, both Winchester men came to a sudden halt. "Is that my baby?" Dean asked, eyes wide with shock.

"Yes, and she's stolen and we need to get out of town immediately," Chloe said, hurrying to the trunk to stick her bag inside.

He shook his head, jaw slack. "How did you...?"

"I was an investigative reporter and I've worked with the Justice League, you don't think I know how to pick a lock? He kept the keys in a box hidden in his office; a hammer opened it and it was easy from there. Just found the Impala out back and brought her back here..." She shrugged. "Now get your things in here, we have to go!"

"Did you set off an alarm?" Sam asked worriedly.

"What?" She looked offended. "Of course not. But the faster we get out of here, the farther we can get before anybody notices she's gone and they've been duped." Digging the keys out of her pocket, she tossed them to a still-stunned Dean, who caught them instinctively.

Sam stuffed his belongings in the back and moved around to the passenger door, climbing inside and waiting for them.

"Dean?" Chloe said, staring up at him impatiently. "I know you're happy and you wanna swoon over her incredible beauty right now but can we-"

He cut her off with a kiss, burying his hand in her hair and hauling her up close, his mouth slanting across hers deeply. He didn't come up for air until he had to; his tongue tangling with hers, their noses bumping, his hands holding her to him tightly. He dropped his bag to the ground and wrapped his arms around her, hands spread across her back, running up and down, kneading her shoulders, tangling in her hair. When he drew back, she was panting, staring up at him in a daze.

She licked her swollen lips and swallowed. "W-What was that for?" she stuttered.

He smirked. "You _stole_ my car back for me..." He bit his lip, shaking his head.

Her brow furrowed. "You _sold_ her for me... That in itself means more than the ring. But... I couldn't let you go on without your car. The Impala is _yours_ ; she's part of you... It's..."

He lifted a brow. "Yeah, you're getting chick-flicky on me. Come on, we gotta skip town, my little thief fiancé."

She chuckled before wrapping her arm around his waist and walking with him to the trunk so he could toss his bag in. He opened the back door for her, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips before he opened his own door. For a moment, he stared at the roof and grinned. "I'm sorry baby, I'll never give you up again..." He sighed, petting the top affectionately.

"Dean? You can tell her how much you love her later. We have the law to outrun!" Chloe called from the car.

With a laugh, he climbed in and revved the engine, sitting back to enjoy how the seats molded to him and breathing in that Impala scent he'd missed these last... Okay, it had only been a few hours, but _still_... He never expected to see her again. So that was it then, no chance at denial anymore. He was totally in love with her and there was no going back. Sitting where he was, knowing what she'd done, he couldn't be happier with anybody else.


End file.
